


Five Things JD Doesn't Like About Dr. Cox (No he doesn't, no of course not, why would you say that?)

by MistressKat



Category: Scrubs
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash, five things fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I bet you can't name five things about Dr. Cox that you don't like," Turk said and just kept on coming.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things JD Doesn't Like About Dr. Cox (No he doesn't, no of course not, why would you say that?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lolabobs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lolabobs).



“Give me love, Snow White.” Turk pulled me into one of our manly full-body hugs. 

“Love, Brown Sugar. And respect.” We did the secret handshake thing, which was so street it made me feel like a hiphop star. That’s me and my man Big C, keeping it real. Yo.

“What’s up, brotha? You’re looking down.” God, would nothing get past him? But Turk was right, of course. I was feeling down, and I guess it had reflected on our greeting. The usual sparkle was missing. 

“It’s nothing really... I forgot to get Mr. Murray’s labs this morning and Dr. Cox was just…”

“Ah, man. He tore you a new one, didn’t he? In front of an audience?” 

I hung my head like Tom Dooley, which apparently was answer enough. Turk looked sad. Yep, sparkle definitely gone. “Cox is a grade A jerk, JD. You’ve got to get over this hero worship thing. Seriously, dude.”

Well, that was just... Uh, shiny floor today. Janitor must have spit-polished it with my shirt again. “I do not hero wor-- mmph” Turk slapped a hand to my mouth. His palm smelled like disinfectant and Carla, which I didn’t find erotic at all. Deep breaths, JD, deep breaths. Oxygenation is important. 

“Don’t. Even.”

I didn’t. Turk had that look on his face like someone had stolen his last chocolate brownie and kicked Rowdy on the way out. I flinched in sympathy; that dog was _hard_. 

He took his hand away only to throw both of them in the air in a universal sign of surrender. “Jesus, JD, it physically pains me to watch a grown man so completely whipped. You might as well work at Madam Kiki’s and get paid for it.”

“Those girls do it for love.” I knew this because Rosalie told me so the last time she came by the clinic for more lube and free condoms. 

Turk rolled his eyes at me in that way of his that was totally scary in the dark. I inched backwards until I was right under the fluorescent lights.

“I bet you can’t name five things about Dr. Cox that you don’t like,” Turk said and just kept on coming. 

“I can too!”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah!”

“As if!” 

“Bring it on, bitch!” We were squaring off like two cheerleaders before state finals, but there was no doubt who’d win this round. Turk may have bigger pom-poms but my splits were to die for, smooth and sweet like vanilla milkshake.

“Let’s hear them.” 

Well. I… Shit. “Well, for one…” I pictured Dr. Cox like he’d been this morning, standing in judgement like a Greek God in a white coat, chin jutting, hands on his hips, chest buff-- “His hands.” There. Take that.

“_His hands?_” 

“Whose hands?” Carla had wandered over from the nurses’ station, clearly drawn by the blatant display of testosterone Turk and I were putting on.

“Dr. Cox’s. JD was just telling me five things he doesn’t like about that dickhead.” 

“Five? Really, that many?”

“Shut your face, Latin-witch.” With friends like these… “Yes, I don’t like his hands. They’re too big and rough” and strong and god, so masculine. I could still feel the imprint on my shoulder the last time he… Uh. Right. Dignity. 

Carla and Turk looked at me with identically raised eyebrows but said nothing. Good. Fine. I ticked a second item off with my fingers. “Number two.” Both Turk and I sniggered a bit at that.

“Number two,” I repeated. “This whole ‘Lonely Wolf’ act. Like, who does he think he is, walking around, shrouded in mystery, all tragic and brooding and…” I trailed off and cleared my throat. Turk was looking vaguely disgusted while Carla seemed to be biting her lip. 

“I mean, who buys that shit? Not me.” I shook my head vigorously, trying to dislodge the image of Dr. Cox as the Dark Knight of Sacred Hearts, black cape billowing behind him like a flag of justice and the American Way.

Time to move on. I raised a third finger. 

“The way he treats women. Totally sexist and appalling” and not a sign that he likes men better or at least dislikes them equally much.

I turned to Carla, who would surely agree with me here, the empowered and independent sista that she was. 

Carla stared at me silently. “Come on,” I tried to awaken her suffrage spirit. “Simone de Beauvoir?Germaine Greer? Sisters are doing it for themselves?”

“Don’t mind if we do” Elliott said, her breath hot and moist against my smoothly shaven cheek. She walked right past me, scent of flowers and baby powder and lacy feminine things trailing after her. 

“Isn’t that right, Carla? Hmm?” Elliott’s small hands slipped around Carla’s waist, pulling the two of them flush against each other. “Open your petals for me baby, I know how to make you bloom like no man ever can…”

Their lips were so close, almost touching, almost… Thank you God for this glorious sight that you have granted me, I prayed, leaning in and… 

There was Dr. Cox, suddenly standing between the women, all of them now in their underwear (Carla’s: red, silky, naughty. Elliott’s: pale blue, lacy, half-cup. Perry’s: white, cotton, not looking, not looking, not--).

“Hello there, Gisela. Are you here to watch the girls?” Dr. Cox asked, draping an arm over each of their shoulders. Carla and Elliott simpered. “Or are you here to watch _me_ do the girls?” 

“I… no. I mean… _Please_.”

“Please what?” Elliott glared at me, irritably blowing hair off her eyes, her clothes immaculate and sadly showing very little skin. “What is going on here?” 

I blinked twice and looked around. No sign of Dr. Cox. I definitely did not feel disappointed about that.

“I’m proving my independence…” I raised my hands up in the air like I just didn’t care. “… by listing five things I don’t like about Dr. Cox,” I answered. “The first three were: His hands, which are too big. His stupid mysteriousness, which is stupid like I said. His chauvinistic attitudes, which I heartily disapprove of, because I’m all about equality. You have as much right to be a hot doctor as he does,” I told her firmly. 

Carla did that annoying bark of laughter that made her sound like a hyena.

“Anyway,” I said haughtily, ignoring her. “The fourth thing that I do not like about Dr. Cox is his habit of ignoring paperwork until the last possible moment and then closeting himself in the doctor’s lounge for days to get it done.” Last month it was three days of ferrying him coffee and giving him backrubs and making sure no one else bothered him. Only_ I_ was good enough to-- 

“Dude, you’re killing me. This is the lamest list in the history of list making. There are 60-year-old nuns with shopping lists more exciting than this.”

I poked my tongue out at him and ticked off the fifth item with my fingers. 

“His eyes,” I said, hating how small my voice got, quiet like I was suddenly serious about this one.

“What? Why?” Carla was already shaking her head in denial of any answer I might come up with. I swear that woman was psychic. 

“They’re ugly.”

Elliott disagreed. “I think Dr. Cox’s eyes are actually quite… striking. Like chipped ice.” She nudged Carla. “Don’t you?” 

“If you ever repeat this within his hearing, I will make sure you’ll be doing rectal exams for the rest of your lives, but yes, Dr. Cox has lovely eyes. Turk?”

Turk snorted. “Woman, you’re the light of my life, but there is no way you’ll get me to comment on whether Dr. Cox’s eyes are pretty or not.” 

Carla grabbed one of Turk’s nipples between here thumb and forefinger, twisting viciously. “Say. It.”

“_Ow, ow, ow._ Okay, fine, they’re like a field of cornflowers on a summer’s day. Now let go, hag!” 

By the time she did, I was already half-way down the corridor.

“Hey, where you’re going JD?” Elliott’s shout bounced from wall to wall but I just waived a chart in the general direction of my friends and walked on, walked on, walked straight to the supply closet, shut the door and thought about Dr. Cox’s eyes. 

Because Elliott was right and Carla was right and Turk was right; they were pretty and blue and clear like a noon sky. And I hated them with a feeling so deep it was practically a bottomless vacuum of antimatter.

Hated the way his eyes saw _everything_, looked right through me, uncovering every single crack and weakness and failure. 

Turk had called my bluff, damn his black perky ass, and I was man enough to admit it. There was only one thing I _really_ didn’t like about Dr. Cox.

And even that said more about me than it did about him. 

I gave myself five minutes of wallowing and then smacked myself on the face. The stars had never shown so brightly. I slipped out of the closet, narrowly avoiding the Janitor and his Mop of Emasculation, and headed toward Mr. Murray’s room.

Sublimation had always worked so far, no reason it shouldn’t now.


End file.
